


Rules

by Ephermeralk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bed Humping, Bondage, Bottom Dean, Facials, M/M, Mild D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 22:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephermeralk/pseuds/Ephermeralk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean hasn’t let Sam touch him since they started their last hunt, but now that the ghost’s been salted and burned, Sam’s making the rules.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: The ever lovely [](http://sleepypercy.livejournal.com/profile)[**sleepypercy**](http://sleepypercy.livejournal.com/)
> 
> A/N: My OTHER (and last) fill from the [](http://spn-otpkink.livejournal.com/profile)[**spn_otpkink**](http://spn-otpkink.livejournal.com/) for the prompt “Dean's hand are tied behind his back and he has permission to come while humping the bed. Sam sits on a chair nearby and jerks off to it.”

Sam barely gets the word “Dean” out of his mouth before he’s pushing his brother up against the cold metal door of their motel room. They’ve just returned from a longer than usual salt-n-burn, and Sam—he’s got it bad.

Sam hasn’t felt the inside of Dean’s hands, mouth, or ass in what seems like years, though technically, he knows it’s only been about four days. He’s had nothing besides resentful jerk offs in the shower, until the water starts to run on the cool side of comfortable. Having a constant case of blue balls hasn’t put Sam in the bed of moods. This time, just like all the others, is Dean’s fault, really. Sex with Dean is a necessity, in Sam’s opinion, and one that Dean continues to deny him when they’re on a hunt.

“You know the drill man. No sex while on the job. It was Dad’s rule for a reason, and we stick by it, Sammy,” he always says, pushing Sam’s hand out of his pants. Or Sam’s dick away from his mouth.

Fuck Dad’s rules. They’re grown up now, and Dad’s no longer around. Dean and him, they’re always on the job, always will be. So what if they’re about to gank zombies today or poltergeists tomorrow; sex should still be on the table.

Anyways, it never makes Sam stop trying, because people sell their souls for the type of beauty that their shared genetics picked for Dean. Speaking of familial traits, for how stubborn his brother says Sam is—Dean’s just as mulish, given half a reason. And Dean’s always held steadfast on his refusal to fuck around while working.

But now—now the ghost’s salted, burned, and gone for real this time. Sam shoves a long, denim clad leg in between Dean’s bowed thighs. Dean’s already hard in his jeans, and Sam can imagine that Dean can’t wait to get his dick free, out of his restricting pants. He grins as Dean grinds his erection against him.

“How you feeling, Dean?” Sam asks calmly while biting at his brother’s neck. Watching Dean become desperate far outweighs his own desire to get off at the moment.

“Too many clothes, Sammy. Get ‘em off.” Dean replies while continuing to hump his leg like his dog Bones, back in Flagstaff. It turns Sam on more than he cares to imagine, but he pushes that thought to the side for now.

“Hm… I’ve got a better idea, Dean. How ‘bout you take all your clothes off and I watch?”

Dean’s head pulls away from where it had been nesting in the crook of Sam’s neck, as he tries to assess the look in Sam’s eyes. Dean’s pupils have already dilated, leaving only the slightest hint of green around the edges. He’s in no position to be making judgment calls, Sam notes before letting his smile downturn into the beginnings of a pout. He’s not above a little manipulation.

“C’mon, Dean, please,” Sam says, with just the hint of a whine. That does the trick.”

Sure thing, Sammy, whatever you want,” comes out of Dean’s mouth as he starts to take off his clothes.

He unlaces his boots first, taking his socks off with them, before unbuttoning his over shirt and throwing it onto the growing pile of cotton on the floor. He’s gotten his _ACDC_ shirt off and has started on his pants when Sam intervenes, “Hey, Dean. I’ll grab those for you,” while running his hand over Dean’s chest. He can feel every rib leading down Dean’s taut stomach until he gets to the top of Dean’s pants. Sam stops to pull Dean’s belt from his pants and wraps it around one of his hands before slipping down Dean’s jeans and boxers. They fall soundlessly to the floor in a single, fluid movement.

Sam runs a hand up Dean’s thigh, skimming around Dean’s erection which twitches with anticipation of Sam’s touch. It doesn’t come. Sam draws patterns of swirls up Dean’s chest and around his nipples until Dean pants and begs “Sammy, need you to touch me. Need you stuffing me. Can’t wait any longer, man, it’s been days.”

Sam chuckles. “Hmm. And whose fault was that, Dean? Who pushed me out of bed last night?”

“Rules, Sammy. They’re the rules, you know that.”

Dean struggles to hump against Sam again, but Sam holds him back just far enough that his dick can’t get any friction.

“Well, I think that means it’s my turn to make the rules tonight, don’t you think, Dean?” He asks, even though it’s a rhetorical question. Dean stops humping the air.

“What do you want, Sam?” Dean questions, a faint hint of hesitation in his voice.

Sam kisses Dean, rewarding him for using his name, devoid of any childhood associations. When he comes up for air he can’t help but whisper into Dean’s ear “You wreck me.”

Dean shudders, and Sam smiles. “I want you to put on a show for me, Dean. You haven’t let me touch your body since Saturday. So now, I’m not going to let you touch mine.”

Dean nods, which Sam takes as acquiescence before leading him to the mattress.

“On the bed, lying down, ass up and arms on your back, brother,” Sam states. It’s not a request, and Dean complies with ease.

Sam takes Dean’s belt that he’s been holding onto and wraps it around Dean’s wrists until he’s sure that he can’t get loose. Not that Dean would try—he wants to get off as much as Sam does. With his arms tied up behind him, Dean’s shoulders arch in perfect, muscled lines under the off-color florescent light, and Sam can’t help licking a stripe up his spine. Dean tastes like kerosene and ash, and for some reason, that makes Sam harden to the point of pain.

He moves away from Dean then, taking the wooden chair from its resting position by the desk, and turning it so he’s got a full side view of Dean’s body. He’s only a few inches away. Dean’s eyes meet his, from where his brother’s cheek rests on the cheap, scratchy comforter. He hasn’t moved, and that makes Sam’s heart swell—Dean always knows what he needs.

Sam doesn’t take his clothes off, just unzips his fly and pulls his dick out from his boxers.

“You can come anytime, Dean. I just want to watch you get yourself off on the bed,” Sam says, while moving his hand up his dick in slow, languid movements.

Dean mimics his thrusts at first, his eyes on Sam’s cock, which is sticking up straight and red against his white shirt. Sam rubs directly underneath the head and groans.

“You getting wet for me, Dean?” he asks.

Dean flushes, and it highlights the freckles underneath his eyes. “Yeah, Sam,” he responds.

“Lift your hips a little bit Dean, give me a better view of you fucking our bed.”

Dean pushes his face into the comforter, gaining a little leverage to prop his hips up. There’s a string of pre-come connecting Dean’s dick to the bed.

“Fuck Dean, look at you, so needy. You’d do anything to get off, wouldn’t you?”

Dean thrusts a little faster, not getting as much friction on his cock with his hips at their current angle. “Just you Sam, want to do you.”

Sam manages a laugh, even though his own breathing has sped up, and he can feel his heart beat racing up his up veins. “We’ll get there later, Dean. Gonna take the edge off now, so that I can take my time splitting you open later.”

Dean’s humping the bed frantically now, in tight movements centered on rubbing the head of his cock into where his pre-come has soaked into the bedspread. Hands bound with nothing but a cheap bed to get him off, Sam think that Dean’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

Sam works his own dick faster, spreading his own slick around the shaft after he dips into the slit on each upward motion. Dean’s got his eyes closed, and little huffs of air escape his mouth in sounds somewhere in-between a pant and a grunt.

“Dean, look at me,” Sam says, as he stands up from his chair, to stand in front of Dean’s face.

“You gonna come?” he asks, when Dean opens his eyes to find Sam’s dick in his face. He subconsciously licks his lips.

“Yeah, Sam.”

“Good. Me too.”

Dean comes first, his ass tightening, as he drags his cock against the bedspread, shooting strands of fluid onto his stomach. He continues to thrust lazily through his orgasm, as Sam speeds his own hand up. The sight of Dean’s arms held together, the fact that he’s still humping their bed in a small pool of his own come does it for Sam. He gives his dick a few final tugs, twisting towards the end, and then aims his dick at Dean’s face as he comes. Drops spatter over Dean’s eyes and nose, covering his freckles, and dripping off his face. Sam falls back down to his chair and breathes for a few moments before tucking his dick back into his pants.

“Uh… Sam… I’m still tied up here, man, and it’s getting kind of cold.”

“Serves you right for leaving me with blue balls for the last few days, jerk.”

“Stop being a bitch and come untie me, otherwise you’re not getting in my ass later,” Dean responds.

Sam can’t argue with Dean’s logic so he takes the belt off his brother’s wrists and throws it to where the rest of his clothes lay on the floor. Sam moves Dean to the other side of the bed before snuggling up behind him.

“Thanks, Dean,” Sam says. His brother did just let Sam tie him on the bed and come on his face, while he humped a mattress. It seems like an appropriate thing to say.

“Sure thing, little bro.”


End file.
